Forgiveness, New Beginnings, and Rebrith

by bien7012

Stiles visits his mother's grave on her birthday. He stops at Allison's grave and finds Lydia already there. With Lydia's help, Stiles finally forgives himself for Allison's death.

Forgiveness, New Beginnings, and Rebirth

It was his mother's birthday and his father had texted him during his last class that he wouldn't be able to meet him at the cemetery at the end of the school day as planned. He wasn't able to leave work due to some actual police business that didn't involve the supernatural for once. He'd texted that he had run over to pay his respects to Claudia during his lunch break and that Stiles should stop by the sheriff's station when he was done so they could grab dinner together.

Stiles didn't mind going to the cemetery alone. He did it quite frequently whenever he felt the need to speak to his mother. With the darkness and despair the Dread Doctors had brought to Beacon Hills it had been months since he'd been to see her. Now that Mason was no longer the Beast and the Dread Doctors were defeated, Stiles realized exactly how much he needed to tell her and actually appreciated that he would have the privacy he needed to do so.

After the final school bell rang, the pack, minus Kira since she was still off in the desert with the Skinwalkers, gathered at Stiles' locker for a few minutes as they were often want to do. It wasn't long, however, before Scott, Liam, and Hayden headed to the locker rooms to get ready for lacrosse and soccer practice respectively with Scott sharing a meaningful look with Stiles before he pulled Liam away. Scott was well aware of what today was for his best friend.

Malia had reluctantly headed to her math tutoring session with Mason and Cory, her loud exclamations of "I hate math!" following them down the hallway to the library. Lydia had mysteriously disappeared without a word but with some troubled eyes that Stiles would ask her about later. Stiles had lagged behind at his locker after everyone had left before quietly slipping into Coach's econ classroom to explain why he wouldn't be attending practice today. He'd expected the man to give him a hard time. This was Coach after all, and it had been over seven years since her death, but Coach had surprisingly understood, even going so far as to lay a comforting hand on Stiles' shoulder in support.

Stiles had driven over to the local florist shop and purchased a baker's dozen of multi-colored tulips, one of his mother's favorite flowers, the other being daffodils that he knew his father always got for her. The florist had questioned his desire for thirteen stems instead of the usual twelve but Stiles had been adamant. He wanted thirteen, insisting that only one of them should be white, and somberly paid for them.

Then he drove over to the park where he and his mother had spent so much time together before she got sick. It had been her favorite place in Beacon Hills and still held special meaning for Stiles. As he exited his jeep he smiled as he thought back on the summer he and Scott were six and his mother had brought them here almost every day so that they could play in the small stream that bisected the park. They'd brought her cool stone after cool stone and she'd exclaimed over every one. He knew now that she'd just been placating their childhood curiosity and excitement but, at the time, her joy in their discoveries had been meaningful. It was this stream where he walked to now and began to search for the perfect stone to bring to his mother's grave.

It was a tradition he'd started immediately after his mother's passing. The first time he and his father visited her grave after the initial funeral, Stiles had urgently insisted that they needed to stop at the park so he could bring her a stone from the creek. His father had silently and patiently watched as Stiles searched for over thirty minutes until he'd finally chosen a smooth brown pebble with flecks of green and blue.

From that day onward he never went to his mother's grave without first finding a pretty stone from her favorite place. He spent twenty minutes searching before he spotted an almost perfectly round, reddish brown pebble with soft flecks of pink. He scooped it up and shoved it in his pocket before returning to his jeep and finally driving over to the cemetery. He parked the jeep, gathered the bouquet of flowers, and carefully removed one from the other twelve. He had one more stop to make before he could talk to his mom.

He walked the path to her headstone with sad, pain filled eyes and a heart that was still heavy with guilt. It had been just over a year since her death and he'd not had the courage to return since the day of her funeral. He knew Scott came every once in a while, paying respects to the girl who had first stolen his heart and would forever hold a tiny piece of it, and he suspected that Lydia visited rather frequently. But Stiles hadn't walked these steps since the day they had laid her to rest and he'd been thinking of her a lot lately. Ever since learning the true story of the Beast of Gevaudan and how Sebastian had seen her in Scott's memories.

It was long past time that Stiles spoke with Allison and he'd chosen the single while tulip out of his mother's bouquet for her.

As he traveled the last steps around the beautiful cherry tree she'd been laid to rest under, Stiles heard a familiar voice speaking softly. He stopped in his tracks and then retreated a few yards away so that her words became indistinct. He understood the need to speak to a lost loved one without others listening and he would not intrude upon her time.

At least now he knew where Lydia had disappeared to this afternoon with her troubled eyes. She'd obviously been thinking of Allison more lately as well. He remembered the soft, bittersweet look she'd given him when he'd told her about Sebastian infiltrating Scott's memories and how it had been Allison that ultimately saved them from the Beast before Lydia could say Mason's name. Lydia was understandably missing her best friend.

Since he didn't know how long Lydia would be and he knew he needed to talk to Allison before he visited his mom, Stiles pulled out his phone and sat down in the grass just off the pathway to Allison's grave. He sent his dad a text saying that he was at the cemetery but wouldn't be at the station for a while yet and wasn't surprised when his dad texted back almost immediately that he understood and that Stiles should take his time.

They texted back and forth for a few minutes, arguing good naturedly about what dinner Stiles should stop and bring to the sheriff's station when he was done. His dad wanted burgers and fries, Stiles wanted salads, so they compromised and settled on sub sandwiches. He was just reading the last text from his father when he heard her voice saying his name.

"Stiles?" He raised his head to meet her confused gaze, his heart lurching a bit when he saw that she'd been crying. I think you look really beautiful when you cry. He remembered those words he'd spoken to her from sophomore year and still believed them. He didn't know how she'd managed to do so, but Lydia had grown even more beautiful in his eyes. Maybe it was because they'd become such good friends or maybe it was due to the knowledge that she was no longer trying to hide parts of herself from others and that he was partially to thank for that.

Whatever it was, Stiles could think of no other person that he found more beautiful. That used to make him feel guilty, especially while he and Malia were together. There was no denying that Malia was beautiful and Stiles would always care for her just as he knew Malia would always care for him. But neither had ever really been in love with the other. They had come together in Eichen House as two damaged virgins looking to make a human connection and parted as friends who knew they both wanted different things in life. Stiles appreciation of Lydia's beauty, both the physical and the emotional, would never make him feel guilty again.

"What are you doing here?" Lydia asked, brushing the last of her tears away but feeling none of the embarrassment she might feel with someone else. She'd cried in front of Stiles at least a hundred times and knew that he would never think less of her.

Stiles opened his hands in a slight isn't-it-obvious way before he stood, putting his phone back in his pocket and collecting the flowers he'd brought. "I came to see Allison," he admitted softly, his pale features emphasizing the look of sadness in his eyes.

Lydia nodded, her red eyes trailing from his to the bouquet of bright tulips he held in his right hand and the single white tulip he held in his left. "Are those for her?" she asked curiously.

Stiles looked down in slight embarrassment even though he knew he had nothing to be embarrassed about. He was bringing flowers to his dead mother and the girl who had died trying to help save both him and the girl standing before him. There was no shame in that.

Stiles shrugged. "Yeah, well, this one is at least," he said, holding up the single bloom. "The rest are for my mom. It's her birthday. She'd be forty-three years old today."

Since he wasn't looking at her Stiles didn't see Lydia's eyes soften in understanding, sympathy, and true affection.

As Lydia looked at Stiles, she felt her heart ache for him and the longing for his mother he didn't often show but she knew must always be inside him. Her eyes once again strayed to his left hand and the solitary white tulip he was bringing to their fallen friend. She wondered if he knew the significance or the meaning behind the giving of white tulips. Stiles was extremely intelligent and truly one of the few people that she could have an intellectual conversation with. She was almost positive that he would know the symbolism behind the delicate white bloom.

"Why tulips?" she asked carefully, taking several steps closer to him until they were standing right in front of each other. Stiles' sad whiskey colored eyes met her green ones.

"They were my mom's favorites," Stiles said softly. "I didn't know what Allison's were when I bought these at the florists. Do you know?"

Lydia smiled sadly, her mind drifting back to happier times with her best friend. "Allison loved yellow daisies and forget-me-nots. I left some for her today."

"Forget-me-nots," he whispered. "Well, I'll remember that for next time but a single white tulip seemed appropriate today, especially coming from me."

Lydia's suspicion that he understood the significance of white tulips was instantly verified and she reached out to hold his left hand in hers. He seemed to be avoiding her gaze so she gently squeezed his hand until his eyes met hers once again. The sadness and pain in his eyes she had no problem with since she knew her own reflected the same. But the underlying guilt and shame she was not happy to see.

"Please tell me that you're not still blaming yourself for Allison's death, Stiles," Lydia said beseechingly. "She wouldn't want that and it's completely false anyway."

"You don't understand, Lydia," Stiles said, his hand trembling slightly under her own. "She died because I was weak."

"No!" Lydia's grip on his hand strengthened as she took another small step towards him. There was now very little space between them. "Allison died because she was trying to save me from the Nogitsune. Even after I gave her the message not to find me, she still tried because that's the kind of person she was. She was a warrior who died protecting the people she loved. Scott, Isaac, you, me. She loved all of us and her death was not your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault except the oni."

"The oni were under the Nogitsune's power, Lydia." The frustration in Stiles' voice was clear. "And the Nogitsune was only here because I was weak! So let me go and tell my friend that I'm sorry I was the cause of her death. Let me do that for her at least since I couldn't do anything but faint in the tunnels while she died."

He pulled away from Lydia and began walking up the slight rise to Allison's grave under the cherry tree. He wasn't surprised that Lydia followed him but appreciated the fact that she didn't say anything else or try to stop him.

Allison's granite headstone was a soft dove gray. Argent had spared no expense for his daughter's monument and Stiles remembered the way the man had stood stoically next to his wife's similar granite headstone as his only daughter was laid to rest. Argent had lost so much in such a short amount of time. His sister who was now a werejaguar, his wife, the respect he'd held for his father, and then his daughter. It was amazing that he was still strong enough and willing to help the pack when they needed him.

Stiles silently approached Allison's headstone and then knelt down with only a foot between it and his person. He noted the bundle of bright yellow daisies and purple and blue forget-me-nots that Lydia had placed on top of the stone and added his single white tulip to the arrangement.

"I'm so sorry, Allison," he whispered, several tears falling from his eyes as he said the words. He heard Lydia sniffle softly and knew she was crying again. As much as he wanted to comfort her he couldn't bring himself to turn to her and hear her passionate pleas that her best friend's death was not his fault. There was nothing anyone could say that would change his mind unless maybe Allison herself was to suddenly rise from the grave and absolve him of his guilt. Her he would believe.

He sat quietly for a few minutes, reading her name, birth date, and date of death over and over again. There was an epitaph at the bottom of the headstone that had been added since her funeral and written in beautifully stylized letters but which Stiles couldn't read as he'd never taken French. He wondered what the words meant and realized he had an expert standing right behind him.

Without speaking or looking around at her, Stiles reached up his left hand and wasn't surprised when Lydia instantly took it and sank to her knees beside him. With his left hand clenched between both of hers, Stiles carefully laid the bouquet of tulips meant for his mom on his lap before reaching up and gently tracing the letters of Allison's epitaph.

"Do you know what the words are in English?" he asked hoarsely.

Lydia turned her head to gaze at his profile. He looked so sad, so haunted, and she would do anything to help ease his pain. She didn't have the words he needed to hear, but perhaps Allison did.

"I do. Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-mêmes." Lydia read the inscription in French first and then launched into a story that Allison had told her before she died without revealing what the words meant to Stiles yet.

"Did you know that all hunters have the same code that they live by?" Lydia asked Stiles. He shook his head and Lydia continued. "Allison told me about it before she died. We hunt those that hunt us. After her mother died, Gerard's manipulation of her, and the sacrifice the three of you made for your parents, Allison and her dad decided to start living by a different code. Before he left with Isaac, Argent had their code written on her headstone because he told me the words proved who Allison was as both a person and a former hunter."

"What do they mean? What's her code?" Stiles asked, finally turning to look at Lydia. He was surprised when she reached up with one of her hands to clear several tears that remained on his face but understood the compassionate act when she finally said the words to him in both French and English.

"Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-mêmes.We protect those who cannot protect themselves. Those are the words that Allison lived by, Stiles. Those are the words that honor her in death. She loved us and she protected us as best she could for as long as she could and if she were here today, she'd still be the embodiment of those words. Her death wasn't your fault, Stiles. It was never your fault."

Lydia paused briefly but quickly continued when Stiles looked ready to argue. "I know what you're going to say, that your weakness brought on the Nogitsune and the oni but, Stiles, everyone has weaknesses. Just think about what we've been through the past few months. Every single one of us has been weak in some way and we had more losses with the Dread Doctors and the chimeras than ever. We may not have lost any close friends but people we knew at our school are dead and if I hadn't been catatonic from what Theo did to me I may have been able to prevent those deaths from happening. Are those deaths my fault?"

"Of course not, Lydia, how could you think that?" Stiles asked.

Lydia only raised her eyebrows and Stiles nodded, silently acknowledging her point. Lydia tightened her grip on his hand because she was about to bring up an even more sensitive subject than the death of Allison and she didn't want Stiles to pull away from her. Because what she was about to say really needed to be said.

"You had to take a life, Stiles," she said softly, watching as he visibly flinched. "You had to take a life to protect your own. So did I, and, even knowing that it was either me or Valack, I'm still haunted by what I did to him. What I almost did to you and Scott and Deaton. And if you think about it, you did exactly what Allison did before she died."

Stiles shot her a confused look. "You came back for me. Even when I warned you it was too dangerous just like I warned Allison to stay away. You saved me and Allison died trying to do the same thing. We protect those who cannot protect themselves. You weren't able to protect yourself from the Nogitsune. I wasn't able to protect myself from what Valack did to me. We both needed help and we lost friends who chose to help protect us. Allison gave her life to save ours and you were willing to give your life to save mine. If you had died, if my scream had killed you, would you want me to forever carry the guilt of your death? Or would you want me to accept that your death was a byproduct of a choice that you made to try to save me?"

Stiles weighed Lydia's words as he turned back to Allison's headstone and traced the fancy French script once again as he whispered the words to himself. "We protect those who cannot protect themselves." Once the last word had passed his lips, Stiles felt a tension in his heart that had been present ever since the Nogitsune's possession finally release and he shook his head in wonder and amazement. With Lydia's help, Allison really had risen from the dead to absolve him of his guilt and he couldn't be more thankful.

"It wasn't my fault?" he asked Lydia, hardly believing the gift he'd just been given.

"No. It wasn't your fault, Stiles."

Tears began to fall from both their eyes and Lydia leaned against him, her head resting against his shoulder seeking comfort but providing it as well. They sat quietly for a few more minutes and their tears gradually stopped.

Eventually, Stiles realized that he needed to still visit his mother and carefully rose from his kneeling position. Ever the gentleman that he was, he offered a hand to help Lydia up and smiled when she took it and gracefully rose to her own feet. She surprised him again when she released his hand only to thread her arm through his and continued to lean against his shoulder as they walked away from Allison's grave and in the direction of his mother's.

When Stiles stopped about ten feet away from his mother's headstone, Lydia smiled at him and then reached up on her tiptoes to gently kiss his cheek.

"I'll give you some privacy so you can talk to your mom," she said, her eyes kind and full of affection for the boy who, after Allison's death, had become her best friend.

Stiles nodded his thanks and then accepted the hug that Lydia bestowed upon him. He held her a few moments longer than necessary, burying his head in her strawberry blonde hair and breathing in the scent of her that was so distinctly Lydia. Lydia, in turn, didn't let go of him until he was ready, knowing that he was thanking her for her part in helping to rid him of his guilt over Allison's death.

When Stiles finally did let go of her, Lydia gave him another soft smile before she quietly turned to walk away. She didn't get very far before she heard Stiles say her name again.

"Hey, Lydia?"

The vulnerability in his voice had her returning to him immediately in concern.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, searching his face and eyes for what could have possibly brought that vulnerable quality to his voice.

"Yeah, I just – I just wondered . . ." Stiles trailed off and Lydia furrowed her brow in confusion before he took a deep breath to bolster his courage, looked her right in the eyes, and said, "I just wondered if you'd like to meet my mom."

Lydia swallowed hard, genuinely touched and honored that he wanted to introduce her to his mother whom he held in such high regard. She took his hand again and answered with heartfelt sincerity, "I would love to meet your mom."

"You would?" he asked, the wonder in his voice now reminiscent of when he'd said I did? after she'd explained how she'd kissed him to get him to hold his breath during his panic attack.

With that memory in her mind, she responded with the same soft tone she'd used that day. "Yeah. I would."

Stiles smiled shyly at her and then walked her over to his mother's grave. He silently read her name, birth date, and date of death just as he had with Allison's. His eyes were then immediately drawn down to his own mother's epitaph.

Gone yet not forgotten, although we are apart.

Your spirit lives within in us, forever in our hearts.

Beloved wife and mother

He gently set his mother's bouquet of tulips next to the daffodil's his father had dropped off earlier in the day. He then withdrew the stone he'd searched for and plucked from the park's creek next to piles that showed how often he visited her as he sank to the ground and carefully pulled Lydia down next to him.

"Hi, Mom," Stiles began. "Happy birthday. Sorry it's been so long since I visited. A lot has happened in the past couple months that I want to talk to you about. But before we get into that, I wanted to introduce you to someone. This is Lydia Martin. Yes, the Lydia Martin that I've talked about for years."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lydia turn to look at him and he shrugged internally. He'd told her himself about the massive crush he'd had on her at the dance sophomore year. It wasn't like it was a secret and if there was one place and one person that he would never be fake with or hold back his words or his real feelings; it was here with his mom.

"I wanted you to meet her because, next to Scott, she's probably the best friend I've ever had. She's important in a real way now instead of the fantasy version I built up in my mind for so long." He heard Lydia try to smother a chuckle as she looked back at the white marble headstone. "Anyway, Mom, this is my friend, Lydia."

He hadn't expected Lydia to say anything and was surprised when she spoke. His eyes flew to her profile as Lydia spoke directly to his mother's headstone.

"Hi, Mrs. Stilinski. I want you to know how special I think your son is. He's funny and smart and so loyal to everyone he cares about. He's also incredibly sarcastic and stubborn but that's what makes him Stiles."

"Hey!" The indignant tone made Lydia turn and smile at him before she shushed him.

"Shh, I'm talking to your mother right now." Stiles rolled his eyes at her and grumbled something but Lydia continued, her eyes returning once again to his mother's headstone and the piles of pretty rocks she'd deduced he brought to her on every visit. "Sorry about that, Mrs. Stilinski, but I'm sure you're well aware of your son's faults as well as his virtues. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I am so very thankful for your son. He saved my life even knowing it could have cost him his own."

Lydia paused and then purposefully looked at Stiles, waiting until he looked back at her before continuing. "I know some of his bravery and fearlessness comes from his father, another man of yours that I greatly admire and owe a debt to, but I know that a lot of his inner strength comes from you. I wish I'd met you before you died but I want you to know how very honored I am to meet you now if only so I can tell what an amazing man your son is becoming."

Stiles felt his heart practically implode in his chest at her words and swallowed hard when she smiled at him again, her green eyes bright with sincerity. "I'm going to go now, so that Stiles can talk to you about everything that's been going on. But before I go, you should also know that Stiles is significant to me in a real way, too. I'd even go so far as to say that his presence in my life is of vital importance."

With gentle grace Lydia stood and backed away a few steps before she addressed Stiles again, noting how he was tracking her movements, a look of complete adoration on his face. She wondered if her own face reflected his because she adored the boy before her in much the same way.

"Thank you for sharing her with me, Stiles. Text me later? When you're done?" she asked.

Stiles nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Lydia, for what you just said, for Allison, for . . . everything today."

Lydia beamed at him and then turned away to leave.

Stiles watched her small frame walk farther and farther away from him. When she disappeared from his sight he turned back to his mother's headstone and grinned.

"She's great, isn't she, Mom?" he asked. "I had to introduce you because, someday – and I've never been more certain of this than I am right now – Lydia Martin is going to be my wife."